


See Me Now

by helens78



Series: Used Books For Adults [5]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-12
Updated: 2010-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/99982">Can't See You</a>, Fraser has a confrontation of his own to make--but now there are no walls to hide behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> For my kink bingo card; also, part five of [Used Books For Adults](http://archiveofourown.org/series/2418); also, my 400th story on AO3. :D
> 
> I was severely tempted to mark this one "first time", because on an emotional level it feels like one, but it definitely _isn't_ their first time, so I left that tag off. (Let me know if you think I should add it!)

Fraser walks into the 27th precinct in full red serge, and he sits down across from Ray's desk as if this is a perfectly normal Friday morning. It is not any sort of "morning after"--it is not the morning after a sleepless night; it is not the morning after a night when Fraser couldn't stop touching himself and thinking of Ray and feeling shame all over his skin; it is not the morning after Ray finally confronted him at the adult bookstore and took Fraser's come in his mouth _and then left him there alone_.

It isn't anything, which is apparently what Ray wants. Fraser sets his hat on his lap and waits for Ray to finish whatever he's typing.

When Ray looks up, he only does so for a moment, and then his eyes skitter away, left and then right and then down. "Hey," he mumbles.

"Good morning, Detective Vecchio."

Ray flinches, which just makes Fraser straighten his spine even further. "Yeah," Ray mutters. "We got a thing with stolen meat. You wanna see what we can do with that?"

Fraser's grateful Diefenbaker refused to accompany him today--whether out of disgust for his cowardice or Ray's, Fraser couldn't figure out. Wolf body language is sometimes a bit oblique. He somehow doubts Diefenbaker would have kept his opinions to himself when stolen meat was on the line, though. "Certainly, Detective Vecchio. What sort of meat was stolen?"

* * *

The entire day goes like that: Ray looking anywhere but Fraser, Fraser's back starting to ache from such stiff posture. They visit the warehouse where the meat's been disappearing and question a few of the employees; they get sent on a wild goose chase that leads them to three different butcher shops and finally a restaurant that only serves breakfast and has been closed for hours. Ray stands on the doorstep for a few seconds, squinting through the glass, but eventually shakes his head.

"We can hit it up tomorrow if you're not--" Ray pauses and shakes his head, staring off into the distance. "You know what, no; doing it tomorrow gets me overtime, but you don't have to be here. We don't even pay you, for crying out loud."

"Do you really think I've been here all this time because I wanted _money_?" Fraser spits out. His tone is more caustic than he intended, and he rubs at his eyebrow, finally looking away from Ray, finally letting his shoulders sag.

Apparently that's what Ray's been waiting for all morning, because he reaches out and grabs Fraser by the arm, gripping so hard it startles Fraser into jerking upright again. "I am so fucking sorry," Ray whispers. "If I'd known what it was going to be like, I'da never--I would never--" And then he's like a broken record, over and over again: _never, never, never._

Fraser pulls his arm out of Ray's grip, not gently. "Well, thank you for providing me the moment, at least," he says, using his best _thank you kindly, have you met the Queen?_ voice. "I assume we won't be meeting there again."

"Fraser--" For a moment, Ray meets Fraser's eyes, but then he winces and stares back down at his feet. He starts to reach out again, then stops and wraps both arms around his chest, hugging himself. "It wasn't like what I thought it'd be," he mumbles.

"Then you have my apologies for disappointing you. It was my first time on that particular end of that service," and when that gets Ray's attention, when Ray looks up with a dumbfounded expression, Fraser goes on, "but I'm sure I'll do better in the future."

Ray's eyes go wide, and all the anger Fraser won't let himself show in his own expression is clear on Ray's face. "Wait--wait, what, Fraser, no, what the fuck--"

"You seem to like it well enough; why shouldn't I--"

"That's not what I meant, Jesus--"

"--because it was your goddamned idea in the first place to stop pretending we were strangers and start pretending we had a right to be there _together_\--"

And perhaps Fraser's not doing so well at keeping the anger off his face now, out of his voice and his posture, because Ray actually takes a step back and spreads his arms wide, out to his sides. He looks strangely calm now, as if there's only enough anger between them for one man, and if Fraser's holding onto it, there's none left for Ray.

"You know what, I owe you one anyway, I do. Free shot." Ray raises his eyebrows. "Come on."

For a split-second Fraser actually considers it. His hand curls into a fist and his body tenses and he _could_\--he probably could.

But that isn't what he wants. He relaxes his hand and shakes his head. "Not that. Not here," he adds. "Not like this."

Ray drops his arms. "Okay. What, then? Where?"

Fraser glances down at himself; the first, most obvious answer is not going to happen while he's dressed in his uniform, so he settles on his second choice. "Your place."

Ray nods and makes a beeline for the car, and Fraser follows on his heels, both car doors slamming hard and rubber burning as Ray peels out of the parking lot.

* * *

Car into park, parking brake set, into the front door of the building, up the stairs. Right turn, down the hallway, and when they reach Ray's door, Fraser realizes Ray's hands are shaking--the keys are jingling as he tries to find the right one for the lock. He finally gets it, and they get inside, and the door isn't even fully closed before Fraser drops his hat so he can get Ray's shirt in his hands, shoving Ray against the door with a bang. He presses the full length of his body up against Ray's, and Ray tilts his head back, eyes closing again. Fraser licks a path up the center of Ray's throat, coming up over his chin and licking his lips.

Ray groans out loud, hands coming up to clutch at Fraser's arms, but Fraser grabs Ray by both wrists and pins them above his head. "Free shot," Fraser growls at him. "You said."

"I said," Ray breathes. He looks at Fraser, and his eyes are dark and wide. "I said. All yours."

Fraser kisses him again. This time it's rough and angry, and he forces his tongue into Ray's mouth as if he can make Ray taste all the times Ray's fucked him that way, as if he can show Ray all the things it meant.

Ray's hips buck and jerk under Fraser's, and Fraser pulls away, tearing at his uniform, yanking the lanyard off, the Sam Browne--God, it has so many pieces, there's so much between them now. Ray's just watching, though, hands pinned to the door as if Fraser's still holding them there, and Fraser just keeps going, tunic, braces, trousers, a frustrated growl when he realizes he needs to deal with the boots.

He starts to go to one knee, but suddenly Ray's moving, dropping to his knees, sliding his hands up from Fraser's ankles to his calves. "Me, let me, please," he says, and Fraser wonders when his boots turned into one of his erogenous zones--the feel of Ray's hands on all that leather is making what little blood he had left in the rest of his body rush directly to his groin. The fact that Ray's on his knees doesn't hurt, either. Ray doesn't have it down to a science the way Fraser does--he fumbles, he manages to knot the laces before he gets them untied, but then he's got the first boot off and he's working on the second, and if anything, he's breathing even harder than Fraser. He wants this.

Once Fraser's boots are off, the rest of the uniform is short work, and Fraser doesn't stop when he's down to his undershirt and boxers; he doesn't have anything to be ashamed of, damn it. Ray just stays on his knees, watching, swallowing, his tongue coming out to trace his lips, and Fraser can't take it anymore. He grabs Ray by the hair and backs him right into the door again, blocking Ray in with his body. Ray reaches up and puts his hands on Fraser's hips, and Fraser groans out loud--how many times has he fantasized about doing that to Ray, about touching Ray like that?

But this is his turn, his free shot. He wraps his hand around his cock, still keeping Ray's head pinned back to the door with his other hand, and he angles his cock down towards Ray's open mouth.

"Do you want this?"

"Fuck, yes--"

That's all Fraser needed; he pushes in hard, ignoring the scrape of Ray's teeth, and starts rocking in with fast, heavy strokes. He doesn't go deep, doesn't need to go deep--he just needs to hold onto Ray's hair and feel Ray's hands on his hips and fuck him, fuck his throat the way Ray's fucked his, fuck his throat while watching Ray panting and squirming and struggling to get more.

Ray's hands dig into Fraser's hips even harder, and he jerks Fraser forward with every thrust--if Fraser doesn't need it to be deep, the same can't be said for Ray. Fraser growls heavily between his teeth and thrusts in hard, hard enough it bangs the back of Ray's head against the door, but Ray just keeps dragging Fraser forward, as if that still isn't as much as he wants, as much as he needs, as if Fraser could pin him here and choke him and he'd still feel he had something to make up for.

And perhaps Fraser shouldn't be taking such obscene advantage of that, but they've come this far; it's too late to go back now. He braces both of his hands on the door, spreads his legs a little wider to get a better angle, and starts moving in, fucking into Ray's mouth with the insistent rhythm Ray's been encouraging him to use, hissing when Ray's teeth scrape against him. There's no help for that; this isn't gentle or precise, it's vulgar and demanding and angry on both sides, and even if Fraser tried to stop now, he thinks Ray would keep dragging him forward, keep drawing them together until their inevitable violent explosion.

Which is, on Fraser's side at least, on its way. He groans hoarsely with every single stroke into Ray's mouth, and he speeds up past even Ray's insistent pacing. Ray just holds on, choking but still keeping his hands on Fraser's hips to make sure he doesn't try to back off, and Fraser lets himself go, comes without a warning or any attempt to draw away, cock pulsing deep in Ray's throat until Ray starts pushing to get some space, some air, room to cough.

Fraser draws his hips back and lets Ray cough until he's finished, watches as Ray's hand comes up to stroke his throat. He leans against his arms on the door, panting for air much like Ray is now, staring down at Ray as Ray recovers.

Ray looks up at him, then squirms; Fraser pushes away from the door and backs up a few steps, kicking his displaced uniform to the side as he goes. Ray comes to his feet and groans as both his knees pop; he leans back against the door and buries his face in his hands.

Fraser can feel his whole body going cold; he straightens up, spine stiffening, and glances at the floor for his clothing. He doesn't see his boxers; he wonders where they've gone. If this is how it's going to be, _again, damn it_, he'll dress and he'll leave and perhaps by Monday morning they'll be able to face each other at the 27th precinct, and Fraser will never, ever make this mistake again.

But Ray just scrubs at his face for a while and then looks back up at Fraser, and he drops his head back against the door, wincing and raising a hand to the back of his head. "Ow," he croaks; his voice is almost entirely gone.

"I'm sorry," Fraser says quietly. "I..."

Ray waves a hand in the air--_no, don't, stop_. "Bed," he manages, and he reaches out that hand to Fraser. "Come to bed with me."

Fraser exhales softly, tension easing out of him, and he nods. He takes Ray's hand, and they head for the bedroom together.

_-end-_


End file.
